Doctoring Trust
by Paradoxos
Summary: All he wanted to do was to heal him. His companion only asked for something less. [Tezuka x Oishi]


**Disclaimer: Standard disclaimer applies.**

A/N: Yes, here I go again. Special thanks goes to **Nasaki **and **buffyvh** for their comments from the last post. Thank you guys very much! Truly, your comments were very precious. Thanks for being the motivation that drove me onward.

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* * *

" I want to be the only one who can heal you… Yet, I realize how useless it is. You have enough power to heal yourself…"_

**Doctoring Trust**

_" Trust me." He heard him say to him long ago._

_The words came out as a whisper barely audible. But, he, one who was closest to his side at the time, captured the rhetorical message with his keen hearing. Even then, he doubted the fact that it was directed towards him._

_So he brushed it off the surface of his mind before it sunk in, subconsciously scolding himself for losing focus on the decisive battle ahead when his comrades needed his silent support the most._

_It was not the other's character to favor repeating his words._

* * *

Tezuka was no shallow soul. 

Oishi knew, yet could not comprehend the depth of his character until the present, after they took sanctuary under the same roof for a period of seven years.

Unlike his patients who poured out the contents of their heart and mind to him, he was an enigma, something with thoughts not even he could identify if he were to split him open to scrutinize his insides.

Though he was not a mind reader, he had been gifted with a pair of sharp and observant eyes like the falcon that glimmered with soft gentleness on daily basis.

He sees the fatigue drooping lightly under his eyes, carefully hidden away by the rim of his glasses. He watched as his auburn strands slowly lose its silk-like shine, and eyes lose its energetic glow and is left with nothing but empty passion.

The man was over working himself, the doctor concluded. He travels from country to country, land to land, one tournament after another, and afterwards, he practices consecutively for long hours evolving into days until the cycle begins repeating itself.

They hardly saw each other. And when they did, they communicated with the same voice as times when he was alone---with the voice of solitude.

Sniffing the air, he makes out his unique smell, faint and fleeting at the same time, hanging in his room. He avoided cleaning his chamber as much as he could, to preserve the scent as a reminder of his presence from once upon a time.

Yet, he had to be prepared for his arrival, varying from weeks to months. So he sweeps up the particles of dust carrying his scent, unwillingly discarding them into the trash can to be disposed of later.

* * *

_" Ne, Oishi. Let's stay together as the Golden Pair! Let's go beyond the Nationals together!"_

_" I'm sorry, Eiji. I cannot."  
" Eh? Why!"_

_" I'm going to attend to medical school after I graduate. I want to become a doctor."_

* * *

Carelessness always missed the whispers spoken by the heart. 

If he had considered his words in the past, his abundant amount of worries would have been reassurance, and the awkward air of deafening silence would have been comfortable harmony.

But he hadn't.

And he was plagued by constant insecurities that could only be treated temporarily by the sight of his figure---tangible and well---before him.

At first, his companion complied without opposition, stripping out of his clothes the moment he strolled thought the door, his tennis gear hanging from his shoulder falling to the floor with an audible _thud_, as he appears to escort him into the study for a thorough examination on his body.

He fails each time in discovering a wound. Not even a scratch had marked his flawless skin.

There was an extent to human tolerance. Once the limit is exceeded, the ties of endurance would snap and give away to a crumbling composure.

Unknowingly, the man began to spend more time outside his home. His conscience persuaded him that he was too overwhelmed by work, but another part sought the forbidden reason.

Until the day escape finally provoked irritation from within him, and his body trembled slightly from being deprived of the warmth only the little house could provide him.

" Tezu-…"

" Oishi." Not allowing him to finish, he stopped his companion before him, and restrained the invincible flow of time right on the spot.

And he found a new aura of silence named Serenity.

" Listen." The stressed movement of his lips accentuated the importance of the word.

Oishi Syuichiroh broke away from his world immediately, tearing and struggling, and pushed into one belonging to them both.

" Syuichiroh." He chanted a spell to open his ears. " _Trust me_."

There were no comrades, no important battle that required all his attention; there were only the two of them, both in the same world, in the same house.

And he would never again repeat those same two words.

Ever.

* * *

Author's Crap: 

My English teacher's definition of lust and love in writing. Lust is a mixture of body parts, and love is harder to write than lust.

I agree totally (even though once in a while I get the urge to just throw random body parts into my writing). Now, I strive so hard to write love that I avoid romance (again, not always successful). Yeah. Just like a true scary movie should be scary without blood or gore.

Anyways, thank you for reading again. Till next time.


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